


pots, pans, wandering hands

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Improvised Sex Toys, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:36:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: After being away for two weeks, all Lance really wants is to spend time with his wife.





	pots, pans, wandering hands

Hunter pulls into the driveway of his home with a flourish, killing the engine while stepping out of the car. He’s exhausted (a two day mission turned into a two week one), but more than that, he’s relieved to be home. Well, it’s not the home that he cares about so much as who’s in it. His wife, his Bobbi. Other than a quick message to let her know his timetable had changed, Hunter hadn’t spoken with her for the past fortnight, and he felt the loss keenly.

He opens the front door, pausing to take off his dirtied shoes. Bobbi’ll kill him if he tracks mud through the house and he’d rather not have her angry at him right after getting back. Hunter figures she heard the door open, but seeing as she hasn’t come to find him yet, he knows she’s expecting him to come to her.

Hunter decides to check the lower levels first. He would’ve loved to believe that Bobbi was waiting for him, naked in their bed, but that idea is more of a fantasy than anything. He pads down the hallway and lets out a soft, reverential exhale when he sees her in the kitchen. He’s almost certain her outfit is meant to be provocative, even if it’s not overtly sexual. Bobbi’s wearing a skintight tank top and short pyjama shorts, both in plain black. While neither of them are erotic in their own merit, there’s so much _skin_ , and Bobbi knows by now he likes a good romp after a mission. (He likes a good romp anytime, really, but especially after he’s been away.)

Certain that she’s aware of his presence despite her back being to him, Hunter sidles up to Bobbi, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Honey, I’m home,” he murmurs against the back of her neck.

“Hi.” Bobbi puts down the knife she had been using to chop a carrot, presumably to focus on him.

“I missed you,” Hunter whispers, kissing a trail down her throat.

Bobbi shifts her hips ever-so-slightly, and Hunter inhales sharply as his dick responds to the motion. “I missed you too,” she replies.

“Behave,” Lance admonishes, nipping at Bobbi’s collarbone.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She pushes back against him a little more insistently, and Hunter groans into her ear.

“I was going to wait until after dinner. Make sure my wife knew that I like her for more than just the sex,” he replies. It’s the truth - as much as his thoughts walking in the door had been focused on sex, as soon as he had seen Bobbi something in his heart had shaken loose. It was easier to pretend that Bobbi was just his long-term fuck-buddy when he was away, because it helped him miss her less. This wasn’t to mention the fact that most mercs would laugh their heads off at the idea of getting married and settling down. But he looked at her, and he couldn’t see anything other than the woman he loved.

“Your wife knows,” Bobbi answers, gentler than before. “And she appreciates the thought, but she was really hoping to get laid tonight.”

Lance laughs, hot air fanning across Bobbi’s skin. “I suppose that can be arranged,” he says, tilting his hips forward so he can grind his now-obvious erection against her arse. Bobbi leans forward, bracing her forearms against the kitchen counter.

“You really did miss me,” Bobbi teases breathily.

“Two weeks without a wank will do that to a man,” Hunter replies, sliding his hands into Bobbi’s shorts. He keeps waiting to feel something - the hem of her underwear or at least the string of a thong - but he’s unhindered by fabric. Lance has to gasp for air, his already-aroused body going a little wild with the implications of the lack of underwear.

“Not even one?” Bobbi asks. Hunter swipes his fingers through her folds and finds that, despite the nonchalant demeanor, she’s soaking wet.

“No time,” Hunter grunts. He’d rather not think about his mission while his wife is bent over in front of him, and he almost says as much before Bobbi starts talking again.

“That’s a shame, because I spent every night getting off while thinking of you.” Bobbi says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, but she has to know the effect that’ll have on him. She has to. Hunter’s dick is almost painfully hard, but he can’t resist teasing himself just a little more.

“Show me,” he growls, running his thumb across Bobbi’s clit. She rocks back into him at the touch, but Hunter uses all of his self-control so he can step away from her. She uses the extra space to turn around, shoving the cutting board to the side and boosting herself up onto the counter.

“Sometimes I wouldn’t even take my clothes off,” Bobbi murmurs, sliding her hand into her shorts. “What do you think of that?”

“Stupid idea,” Hunter answers, crowding forward so he can tug Bobbi’s shorts down. She lifts her hips helpfully, allowing him to slide the clothes all the way down her legs and leave them abandoned on the floor. That just leaves Bobbi, pretty as a picture on the kitchen counter. He wants to touch, but not as bad as he wants what he asked for.

As if reading his mind, Bobbi’s hand goes between her legs, and she begins playing with herself. Hunter watches, transfixed by the way her muscles move beneath her skin and how her hair catches the light. Everything she does is magical, ethereal. Only his wife could make sitting on a kitchen counter, masturbating, look like a work of art.

“This still isn’t quite right,” Bobbi says. Her voice is still tightly controlled, but Hunter can see the tension in her body as she keeps herself from giving away how aroused she is. “I have to use a toy, you see, to pretend it’s you…”

His pants have finally become too tight to bear, and Hunter unzips his jeans, letting them join Bobbi’s shorts on the floor. The tent in his boxers is even more pronounced, but Bobbi’s not looking at it. She’s looking at the cucumber that’s only a foot or so away from her, glistening with water from when she had washed it previously to be a part of their dinner.

He doesn’t even need to ask to know what she’s thinking. She needs a toy, and the cucumber is the closest thing at the moment. Bobbi has always been resourceful, and now is no different.

If Bobbi was in the mood for teasing, Hunter was sure she would’ve told him to pick his jaw up off the floor, because he can’t stop gaping as she rubs the tip of the cucumber against her entrance. The fiercely possessive side of him is roaring that it should be _him_ rubbing against her, but he manages to quell the urge to knock the cucumber aside and claim Bobbi as his own. She is not something to be owned, and he knows this, but there will always be that insidious voice that insists that Bobbi is his.

He’s not so lost in thought that he misses the noise she makes when she pushes the rest of the cucumber into her, and he responds with another growl.

Bobbi’s free hand reaches out unexpectedly, tugging down the waistband of his boxers to free his cock. She wraps her fist around it, stroking slowly as she continues to move the cucumber in and out.

“Let me,” he murmurs, batting her hand away so he can grasp the free end of the cucumber. It’s a little more slippery than he thought, and it takes a few moments of wiggling for him to get a good grip. Bobbi responds by gently squeezing his cock, and Hunter huffs out a breath. He pushes the cucumber back in, and that’s enough to slacken her grip as she once again adjusts to the object inside her.

His free hand delves beneath Bobbi’s tank top, pulling at the cups of her bra so that he has access to her breasts. He begins kneading one gently, his thumb moving in slow, smooth circles over her nipple.

“This isn’t what you asked for,” Bobbi pouts. “I can’t show you anything like this.”

“You were taking too long,” Hunter replies, unperturbed. “Two weeks, Bob! It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen you cum and that’s sinful.”

He knows he’s scored a point because Bobbi’s hand stops caressing his cock, and she leans back further against the arm that’s still on the counter. “Now do me a favor, and let me fix that situation.”

Bobbi nods, releasing his cock altogether so that she can better hold herself up on the counter. She spreads her legs further open, and Hunter’s breath catches. “Gorgeous,” he compliments as he steps closer to her. The hand that was previously under her shirt trails down her stomach, finally landing on her clit.

Hunter settles into a solid, steady rhythm with the cucumber, his hand working over Bobbi’s clit in time with the strokes. He doesn’t resist is own impulse to thrust his hips into the edge of the kitchen counter, but doesn’t allow his focus to slip even when the rubber band inside him is threatening to snap. Bobbi comes first - and she cums first, too.

The cucumber has the advantage of being more curved than Hunter’s dick is, which in turn means it has a much easier time of finding Bobbi’s G-spot. It’s just a matter of him angling the vegetable correctly, and after a few tries, Hunter knows he’s found it. Bobbi’s arms are shaking with the effort of holding herself up, but he doesn’t have a spare hand to offer her - he’s too busy fucking her with the cucumber.

Normally, Bobbi’s much more vocal during sex, but all she seems to be able to manage is gasps and the occasional moan. Hunter’s not entirely sure what’s different, but he has to admit it’s good for his ego to know he can fuck her beyond all expression. It also provides a different sort of challenge for Hunter; trying to figure out when she’s going to cum.

He’s not interested in teasing her to the edge and then backing down. Maybe later, when he isn’t so sex-deprived (or, more importantly, Bobbi-deprived). But, he wants to know, because as soon as she’s gone, he will be too.

“Mm-mmf!” The sound that comes out of Bobbi’s throat isn’t even close to a recognizable word, but the flush in her face and the arch of her spine are all Hunter needs to see to know she’s either cumming, or about to cum. He flicks her clit one last time, and her hips fly up, every muscle in her body losing control as she orgasms.

Hunter pulls the cucumber out fluidly, moving his arms to wrap around her waist and hold her up now that her arms have well and truly given out. He clenches his jaw as Bobbi inadvertently rubs against his still-stiff erection. He had been expecting to spill everywhere the moment he allowed himself, but despite the near-pain he’s experiencing, his body still won’t let go.

“Use me,” Bobbi commands, obviously having come back to her senses enough to be aware of his current predicament.

Hunter hobbles a few steps away from the counter, Bobbi wrapped around him. He lays her back against the table, and Bobbi lets out a breathy laugh. “We eat here, Lance!”

“Didn’t bother you with the counters,” he replies, voice gravelly.

“True,” she says, bobbing her head in a nod. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

He had been waiting to see if her protests had been real or just for the sake of protesting. If she actually didn’t want to defile their kitchen table, there was a perfectly good wall he could pin her against. Since she didn’t actually have a problem, though, and they were there, he wasn’t going to move.

Hunter aligns his dick with Bobbi’s entrance somewhat clumsily, the overbearing lust sitting heavy on his shoulders and making it hard to move.

The first thrust is - there’s no word in any language, Hunter thinks, to explain how good it feels to be sheathed in Bobbi for the first time. Everything is hot and wet and he can’t breathe, can’t think. He wonders if that’s all it’s going to take - if that one thrust is going to cause him to cum, and he waits a moment to see. Despite the overwhelming feeling of rightness, he doesn’t.

He withdraws and thrusts back in again jerkily, whining softly as he’s once again confronted with a feeling that is nothing short of pure bliss. If he wasn’t so close, he would say that the sensation of being inside Bobbi was as good as any orgasm - but he was close, and he just wanted to finish.

The third slow, graceless stroke elicits much the same feeling. But then, as Hunter is about to withdraw again, he feels _something_ around his dick. Identifying the sensation is difficult, but then he hears Bobbi make a loud, surprised sound.

“Are you -?” Hunter can’t finish his sentence.

“ _Move_ ,” Bobbi hisses, commanding him with the ease of familiarity. “I just - _please_ , Hunter.”

Hunter snaps his hips again, and Bobbi wheezes out a wail at the unexpected second orgasm, obviously unable to decide if it feels good or not. For Lance, though, there is no question - the spasming of her walls around his cock is arguably the most pleasurable thing that he has ever felt, and he only needs one more thrust before he spills into her, finally able to rid himself of the unrelenting itch he had been feeling for two weeks.

“Okay?” Lance pants as he straightens. He steps away from Bobbi, stroking his cock a few more times before pulling his boxers back over his now-soft dick.

“Think so,” Bobbi replies, sitting up slowly. “Wasn’t expecting to, uh…” She blushes bright red, a color that is rare for her. “I guess I imagined your dick so much that when I got it, I kind of…” She makes a vague hand gesture, and Lance nods his comprehension. She was embarrassed about cumming again so quickly, just because of some fantasies.

Lance leans forward to kiss his wife square on the lips. “Good to know I was missed,” he says, smiling roguishly at her. Bobbi chuckles, obviously glad he didn’t push the subject.

“You were, very much.” She reaches out, cupping his face in her hands before pulling him in for another kiss. “Welcome home.”


End file.
